Not Tonight Dear, I’ve Been Busting Hookers All Day.

Don't wait up, Hon.  It's gonna be a long night

Don’t wait up, Hon. It’s gonna be a long night

In Hawaii, it’s not only legal for the local constabulary to have sex with prostitutes but also a part of the arresting process.  Like dipping your dipstick to determine whether or not your oil needs changing.  Before they could make an arrest that can stand, they have to make doubly sure that the lady-of-the-night is indeed a…night walker?

Apparently there’s a waiting list of civilians of all ages wanting to get on the force.  There’s also a long list of policemen who are begging to be put on the hooker-busting beat.  Pick me! Pick me! One veteran was once overheard bragging to his buddies that he busted 10 hookers in one night!

As I blogged, this bit of luxury was being threatened as lawmakers seek to ban the practice of cops dipping their night sticks into hookers’ tank.  “You don’t have to taste an apple to make sure it’s an apple” They argued.  Well they probably didn’t but I’m saying they did.

The spoiled Hawaiian policemen are fighting back for their right to bear arms. Oops, sorry. Not their rights to bear arms, their rights to bust hookers by bedding them.  “Why not?” They argued. “How else could we be sure they would go all the way?” Cops insisted that they must be free not just to receive blowjobs and handjobs from prostitutes but also to engage in vaginal and anal intercourse with them.

I investigated…Ok, maybe I didn’t really investigate but I inquired.  Ok, didn’t do that either.  Well bug off and leave me alone already, I am trying to make a point here! I concluded, there, that’s a better choice of word. I concluded that there are no lineups for male cops wanting to test the gay male hookers for authenticity.  Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

Ok, enough wasting time, where do I sign up to bust hookers? Never mind, I can make citizens arrest, can’t I?

Me practicing my arresting procedure:  Uh, um, how much is it for your services, ma’am? Er, woman..Lady?

Hooker: $100 for the works?

Me: I’ll take it…yeah, the works.  Oh yeah baby! Oh baby! This feels sooo good! Oh gosh am I supposed to be enjoying this? Shit! I think I’m gonna…Yessss!  Sorry ma’am. You are under arrest.  Just let me clean up a bit here and you should also put some clothes on.  Oh by the way, you are good at what you do.

Shame on you, you dirty hooker! Take this!

Shame on you, you dirty hooker! Take this!

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Picky Tiger Passes On Chinese Food

South China tiger

South China tiger (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Did you know that tigers in China don’t like to eat Chinese food? I know, you’d think it would be their favorite meal but no they really don’t like it.  I am not bs’ing you. Listen.

Some guy in a Chinese zoo, no, he wasn’t in a cage.  He was in the zoo as a visitor. Well not in the zoo but rather at the zoo.  Happy now? So anyways, here’s this guy at the zoo thinking to himself, man I feel like offering up myself as a living sacrifice to that tiger over there.  Do Asians talk like that anyways? Who knows and who cares?  I am not sure what came over him but according to the news I got, he climbed a tree, got into the tiger’s enclosure and started making funny movements in hopes of getting the tiger’s attention and hopefully get gobbled up.

The poor uncooked Chinese-food hopeful was disappointed that the tiger looked at him like he was last weeks food.  After some more tempting and teasing and attempts to make himself more tantalizing, I heard that the animal grabbed him by his neck, shook him maybe  to add some sense into him then released him, untasted.  Bam! How embarrassing for the poor asian fella.  Not even a hungry tiger wants to eat him.  Maybe he was too little? Nah, I still think tigers just don’t like chinese food.

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Hockey? What Hockey Game?

thI wanted to go out and enjoy some time with friends while eating some expensive hotdogs and drinking some over-priced brews.  I stumbled upon such a place and paid the much-too-high admission fee to get in.  Seems like a lot of people had the same idea as I did as the place was teeming with people.  Chicks dressed up like it was hottest chick-gets-free-drinks night, man it looked like the place to be. I was ready…

Then a darn hockey game broke out!  Yes, a hockey game.  It sucked because it took everyone’s attention.  Instead we all had to sit down on some uncomfortable chairs that were too close to each other. Us guys didn’t really mind too much but man were the hot chicks pissed!  They all had their cell phones out and were texting, tweeting, instagramming, facebooking, “WTF is this? I am wearing high heels for goodness sake! I didn’t come here to watch a dumbass hockey game!  I am going to get shit-face!” And so they did. And so did I!

If you’ve been to one of these places then you would know what I’m talking about.  You see these girls and you know right off the bat that they are not there for the game.  In fact, you doubt that they even know what teams are playing.  They are either there to drink themselves silly or to pick up hot guys like me.  Or maybe a mixture of both.

Talking about hockey game, why do players argue when they are penalized? “Ref, I swear it wasn’t me.”  or “What?!  Two minutes for tripping? I didn’t even touch the guy!”  Seriously? It’s not as if the referee is going to rethink their decision. “You didn’t touch him? Oh my bad. Scratch that call please!  Number 87 has notified me that he didn’t touch the player.  Play on!” Save your breath and energy for your next shift.

A big thanks to those hotties that show up at the barsocial, these hockey games.  Sometimes you are all that’s worth looking at.

Yoo hoo! Another beer here please!

Yoo hoo! Another beer here please!

Disclaimer:  This blog is not intended to make slight of the many true and genuine hockey loving women out there.

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Friday Folly: The Gullible Nun

Pregnant Nun

Pregnant Nun (Photo credit: Templarion)

And in other news, a nun, yes a nun gave birth to baby without realizing that she was even pregnant.  The nun along with the other nuns at the convent were amazed when she complained of stomach pains which turned out to actually be labor pain.

So tell me something, are nuns allowed to have sex now?  If so, why not priests too?  Or was she tricked into intercourse without realizing it was actually sex? I mean nuns are kinda gullible, right?  So what if some guy went up to her and go, “Hey sister, this polar vortex thing is really getting to me.  I am so cold that I need to plug in.  Would you mind if I just er…slip my electrical cord into your outlet?  It’s nothing, I do it all the time.  It keeps my motor warm.”  The gullible nun would probably reply, “Well…I  don’t see  why not.  If it’s going to help you then sure.  Now where’s my outlet? Ah, ooh, am I supposed to feel like this? Stay still brother, your cord is slipping out.”

Ok, I might need to say a few hail mary’s after that.  It wasn’t nice.  The poor nun was probably impregnated immaculately.  What? That’s a bad joke too? Ok, tack on another Hail Mary to my to-do list.  How about maybe the nun was pregnant before joining the convent? Happy now? Maybe I didn’t get the whole story.  I just read ‘Unaware nun gives birth’ and I ran with it. The nun said she had no clue she was with child. Of course not, dear sister. Of course you wouldn’t.  You probably thought it was just the holy spirit living in you, didn’t you?  Another Hail Mary.

Do you buy it? Me? I’ll have nun of it. Oh, and one more thing, I heard that she named the child after Pope Francis.  Awww, how cute! Don’t read too much into that, folks.

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Christmas is like an orgasm

English: Uploaded from : http://upload.wikimed...

English: Uploaded from : http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/de/5/5c/Rockefeller_Center_Weihnachten.JPG Das Rockefeller Center in New York City zur Weihnachtszeit Eigene Aufnahme Lechhansl 15:53, 20. Jan. 2007 (CET) Dezember 2003 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

I love Christmas but what I really enjoy is not the day itself but the days leading up to it. After Christmas it’s like everyone suddenly exhaled . Whoosh! Christmas is finally over so now I can be myself!  But seriously, you know what I mean, right?  The weeks leading up to the Big Day is all fun.  Fun at work and at home.  Even at the malls. One could get away with murder!  Well not literally.  The day itself goes much too fast.  Like how much can you really eat and drink?  And I find it a bit of a let-down.  You know like that wicked build up you get prior to an orgasm and you anticipate an explosion but your partner changed whatever he was doing so instead of explosion you get maybe something more like an implosion?  You know what I mean, don’t play coy with me!

 

So how is Christmas like an orgasm?  Well after all the build up, it’s over before you know it.  Bam! Just like that.  Oh! Oh! Christmas is coming! It’s coming! Oh yes! Yes! Yesssss!!!!  Don’t stop Christmas! Shit!  You stopped!  And before you know it, it’s back to the same old same old.  Grumpy shoppers, selfish people. No post-sex cuddles.  Just wham bam thank you ma-am Christmas.

 

 

 

 

 

My Most Embarrassing, Agonizing and Violating Experience. Ever

Warning:  Blog contains graphic detail of catheter inserted in penis and the odd sexual innuendo.

Today I had the worst experience of my life in terms of pain and discomfort.  I made the mistake of complaining to my doctor about some issues I was having about two months ago with my bladder.  After sending me to see a urologist, I was booked for a Urodynamic Assessment.  Don’t know what that is? You will by the time you are through reading this blog.

I had an idea what I was in for as I read up a bit on it.  I knew something was going to be inserted into my urethra.  I also knew it would cause some pain, but nothing prepared me for what was in store.  Nothing could.

When I checked in, I was sent to a change room to don a robe and gown, much to my dismay.  I always feel a little less of a man when wearing that dreaded gown.  Plus, I had nothing on underneath!  I was sent to sit with a bunch of old timers dressed like I was.  They were all hooked up to IV’s and I suspected were there to have various ‘old timers’ procedures.  There were two women among them and the thought that they too were naked underneath the flimsy cloth made me feel just a bit uncomfortable.

Remember I blogged a while back that I have this fear of having erections at the wrong places, like massage tables etc.?  Here.  Well as I sat crossed-leg, I thought, “What if I get a hard-on and then they come to get me?”  The thought terrified me so much that I was determined not to let that happen.  I started to think of nonsexual things. Like the old timers sitting with me.

I was supposed to report for my procedure with a full bladder and by the time the nurse came to get me, I could barely stand.  I wanted to go! Bad!  She called my name and asked how I was doing and I replied, “I really really want to pee!”

In the room, I sat in visible distress as she went over what was to take place.  She placed a long plastic object on the table and informed me that it was to be used as the probing object.  It would be inserted into the tiny hole in my pee pee and all the way into my bladder.  The thought alone made me ill.

As if it wasn’t bad enough, this young female nurse was the one who was going to administer my torture!  She sent me to lie on the bed while she prepared the tools of her trade.  Lying there, we talked about our lives, The Voice, family, etc.  I was getting rather comfortable with her.  So comfortable that again I thought, “What if I get a hard-on right here?  How embarrassing would that be?”  So I bit my fingers to distract myself.  Then thought of what lay ahead.

Then she was hovering over me, lifting up my robe and gown exposing my privates.  Thanks darling, I needed that. Then she showed me a small pack of antiseptic wipes.  Or was it gel? Not sure.  “I am going to wipe you with this, ok?”  I nodded.  I had no choice as I was at her mercy.

She took hold of my member and gently wiped it.  Then again.  As she wiped the underside where the nerves were, I instantly felt myself reacting to it.  (Come on! I am human! Don’t go judging me!) Oh gosh no! Seriously?  Kill me now!  Please nurse, stop wiping and get on with it!  This was bad.  Down boy! Down! This is the absolutely worst time!

The nurse must have felt the sudden change too because all of a sudden the wipe was out of her hand and replaced by the catheter, like a magician.  And just like a magician, it was suddenly being pushed into my urethra! OH. MY. GOD!

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I knew it was going to be bad but had no clue what bad was.  It felt like a scaly garter snake slithering up my penis!  While she urged me to breathe in and exhale through my mouth, I thrashed and writhed and clenched my fists.  Then I groaned then half screamed. I was in agony.  Distress. Traumatized. Violated.  And I was dying.  I wanted to stop her.  Call it off.  Anything to make her/it go away. I also wanted to kill her and her entire family.  Whatever it took to make this stop.  I hated her!

After what seemed like an eternity in hell, it was all in.  I whimpered inside like a wounded animal.  The violation was not over.  She then inserted another object into my anus as part of the test.  So I was DP’d.  Wow!  Could you say EMBARRASSED?

When it was all done, I told her that it was officially the worst experience of my life.  I have an excellent pain threshold but this was not pain.  This was something else.

Against my better judgement, I went back to work and shared my story.  Well it made me the butt of jokes for the day.  Oh and no pun intended.

 

 

 

 

Why Did The Duck Cross The Road?

indexIt was a nice day for driving.  Bob Marley was still blasting through my speakers still telling me ‘Don’t worry about a thing, cause every little thing, is gonna be alright.”  So I wasn’t worried.  Like I said, it was a fine day for driving. Or did I say ‘nice’?

Then I saw it.  A damn duck deciding  to cross right in front of me!  I squealed my tires as I came to a sudden stop. Isn’t that ironic that you could maneuver around pedestrians and even hit a few but when it’s a duck, you have to be extra extra cautious?  The things can back up traffic for blocks.  You don’t want to harm a duck now.  So I mentally killed and cooked it up.  Mmm, duck soup! The duck turned its head to look at me as if to say, “Sit there and take it like a man! Bitch! Lol!”  Yes, it even had the ‘lol’.  I contemplated running it over but the duck must have read my mind.  “Don’t even thing about it!”  The look said it all. “See that guy in the big masculine truck beside you?  You run me over and you answer to him.” I glanced over and sure enough there was a big fella with an obviously soft heart watching the bird cross with love in his eyes.  He felt my stare and glanced my way.  “The duck’s right.  Just chill and let it cross, dude.”  What? You too big fella?  You would take delight in running people over but you sit there and fall in love with a crossing duck?!  Your fore-parents would turn in their graves.

As the duck reached the middle of the road, she (I decided it had to be female) decided to rub it in my face even more.  She lowered her tail and ejected her load.  Yes, she shit right where my tires would travel when I continued my forward movement.  The nerve! Asshole! Duck you!  The look she gave me said “Eat shit!”  Man, this duck was really ruining my nice drive.  Shut up Bob! You aren’t exactly helping right now!  I shut off the stereo, tuning brother Bob out.  Everything wasn’t exactly turning out alright.

It seemed like forever but Miss Thing finally made it across.  As she re-mingled with her kind, she quacked something to them and they all gazed in my direction.  THEN, they started to step off the curb to re-cross the street!  Too bad I wasn’t around to verify this.  Again my tires squealed as I peeled away.  Duck! I yelled in frustration, the christian in me substituting the F for the D.  In my mirror, I could see Mr. Tough Guy still sitting there as if mesmerized.

So why did the duck cross the road?  Because she could, whenever and wherever she wants to.

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